Page 60 of The Throne Seeker (Vallorian #1)

L ater that night, Rose was woken by a sudden pounding at the door.

She jolted upright, immediately grabbing her concealed sword from beneath the bed and drawing it from its scabbard. She jumped as another pound shook the door frame.

“Rose!” a drunken voice yelled.

Not just any voice.

“Rose!” Tristan yelled again, pounding on the door. “I know you’re in there!”

She let out a sigh of relief, relaxing her stance as she sheathed her sword and returned it to its hiding place.

He pounded at the door again.

“Rose!” he yelled. “Open the door!”

She didn’t. Instead, she went over to the wooden doorframe, leaning her shoulder against it. She was almost afraid to ask, “What do you want, Tristan?”

“I’m not leaving until I-I seeee you,” he said, his words slurring.

She closed her eyes, praying he’d leave, knowing she shouldn’t let him in.

Tristan didn’t stop. He pounded on the door even harder, making her jump against the frame.

The fool is going to wake the entire castle.

“Rose, I swear if you don’t open this door, I’ll knock it down. I’ll do this all night if I have to,” he threatened, obnoxiously loud.

She cursed, knowing he would.

Desperate to avoid being seen, she flung the door open and stepped out into the corridor, glaring at the guard down the hall who had no doubt been told to stand down by Tristan.

“Would you please be so kind as to fetch Prince Roman? I’m afraid Tristan is not in his right state of mind,” she ordered the guard.

Apparently, he agreed, leaving to fetch him.

“That’s not necessary,” Tristan slurred after the guard, his body slouching against the wall, his eyes red and hazy.

Rose rolled her eyes as she supported his arm, dragging him through the doorway and shutting the door.

She immediately rounded on him. “Tristan! What the hell are you thinking, carrying on like that? Someone could’ve heard you!”

Tristan’s red eyes glared at her. “Doesss it look like I care?” Without warning, he came closer, trying to close the space between them with a dangerous look in his eye.

She knew that look.

“Stop.” She immediately retreated. “You’re drunk. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking clear enough,” he growled more coherently as he continued to advance toward her. He cornered her, trapping her against the wall, coming so close she had to put her hand up to his chest to stop him.

“You’re getting married tomorrow.”

He wasn’t listening. He leaned down so low she thought he’d kiss her, alcohol reeking on his breath. She resisted, but his strong arms had a firm hold around her, pulling her body into his. She pressed her palm harder into his chest to keep him at arm’s length, but he wouldn’t budge.

He didn’t stop until he was within inches of her lips, hovering just over them.

“Gods, you are so beautiful,” he said with an ache that sunk to the marrow of her bones. “Look at you; I couldn’t make a more beautiful woman if I had all the power in the world.”

Her heart soared, undeniably reveling in the compliment. She secretly adored him for it.

His eyes fell to her lips, openly staring at them.

“Tristan,” she whispered in warning.

Saying his name undid him.

“I can’t go through with this,” he said, and for the first time, she saw his eyes glisten. “Look at me, Rose.” He gestured to himself. “I’m lost without you.”

Seeing him so broken made her own eyes water. “I know you think you need me, but you don’t.”

He shook his head, not accepting her answer. He grabbed her hand, forcing it underneath his unbuttoned shirt to his bare skin right over his thundering heart. She ignored how she could feel every pulse beneath her fingers.

“You feel that? It’s yours; it always has been and always will be. Every beat it takes, every ounce of blood it pumps, it’s all yours. Since that day in the ruins, it feels like you ripped it out, squeezing out every last drop until there’s nothing left.”

She forced herself to remove her hand from his chest, feeling like she was tearing off her own limb. “Tristan, you can’t talk like this.” Her eyes pleaded with his. “Please, you have to go.”

Tristan ignored her, leaning closer instead, his cheek brushing hers.

“Don’t force me away… Let me stay,” he whispered, his lips grazing her neck as he said the words.

“Let me kiss you… let me hold you… let me know what it feels like to have your bare skin on mine… Let me taste these.” He kissed the top of her breast. The touch caught her so off guard that she sucked in a sharp breath.

He lifted her thin silk nightgown, exposing her upper thigh.

“Let me feast on you.” His teeth tugged on her earlobe as his hand moved between her legs.

His thumb pressed exactly where she was aching, making her legs tremble.

“Let me perform every daydream I’ve had of you,” he crooned.

His soft lips caressed her neck, down to her collarbone.

It took effort to say breathlessly, “Tristan, stop.”

“Pleassse,” he begged, slurring the word with a shaky breath. “I can’t go through this life without you.”

Rose’s bottom lip quivered as she lifted her eyes to his. “I’m sorry. I want to give in to you—you have no idea how much—but I can’t.”

A single tear slipped out of his eye.

A chunk of her heart shredded apart at the sight.

Roman arrived just in time, bursting in without knocking. His eyes widened as he took in the scene, staring for too long at how Rose was caught between Tristan’s body and the wall.

Roman’s demeanor raged with a silent fury. “Get off her,” he growled.

Tristan didn’t respond, not moving an inch, his eyes still latched to hers, staring at her with desperation.

“Damn it, Tristan, I said get off her!” Roman repeated, coming forward to wrench him back.

To her surprise, Tristan didn’t resist, stumbling backward in his drunken state, his eyes still not fully focused.

“Get out of here now!” Roman yelled, furious. “Don’t you realize you are risking everything we have worked for! Leave before someone finds you here!”

Tristan glared at Roman with a rage she had never seen, his hands balling into fits. For a moment, she was frightened that Tristan would strike him, but instead, he turned his angry eyes back to her.

She’d never forget the look he gave her.

His red eyes were glossed over with a perfect mixture of agonized pain and sorrow. He glared at her, not hatefully, but with a tortured expression that resonated to the depths of her mauled soul.

The next moment, his eyes ripped from hers, forcing himself to leave.

She took a step towards his retreating figure. “I love you, Tristan.”

Tristan stopped at the door, pausing for a long moment before turning around to give her one final look. “You have no idea how much I wish that was enough,” he replied, the beautiful sea he held in his eyes spilling another tear.

He gave her one last look, then he was gone.

Rose opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She took one more involuntary step to the door, only to stop herself. It was a fool’s errand, and she was fully aware Roman was still present.

She clamped her mouth shut, composing herself before she said, “I’m sorry you keep having to mediate… I didn’t know who else to ask.”

Roman didn’t move, nor did he reply. Instead, he just watched her, staring at the tears streaming down her cheek.

“You must be tired,” she continued. She used her sleeve to dry her tears as she sniffed. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

Still, he didn’t move, staring at her with those foreign eyes again.

Her brows pinched slightly, wondering what was going through his mind.

“Will you be alright?” he asked at last. She wasn’t sure if his rich voice made her feel at ease or more anxious.

“I’ll be fine,” she lied through her teeth.

His wide jaw tightened as he took a few small steps to her. “You don’t need to do that. You don’t need to pretend with me.”

His words reminded her eerily of Zareb—another twist of the knife.

“You don’t need to stay and pretend you care about how I feel,” she said, her voice as cold as she could make it.

His mouth hardened into a thin line. “You can’t keep letting him in. You keep making him feel like he has a chance.”

She arched an eyebrow, scoffing. “You think I invited him here?”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t hope for it. Why else would he be comfortable coming to you? To touch you like that?” His face was nearly disgusted.

Rose’s eyes flared as she approached him.

His body stiffened as she came face to face with him.

“If I wanted Tristan, he would be mine,” she said with a voice so cold it didn’t feel like her own.

“He’d throw everything and everyone into the fire if I but asked.

You know he would. The only reason he hasn’t done that, the only reason your precious treaty is possible, is because of me .

So instead of blaming me, Roman, you should be thanking me. ”

His face was still hard, but just underneath his cold eyes, she saw a flinch. “All I’m saying is you didn’t have to open the door. You wanted to see him just as much as he wanted to see you.”

She rubbed her forehead in frustration before dropping her hand.

“He was banging on the door, yelling at the top of his lungs. He wouldn’t stop until I opened it.

I didn’t want him waking up half the castle, so I let him in until you came.

What was I supposed to do? Let him carry on until someone discovered him and asked questions?

Until the princess found out that her future husband has no interest in her at all? ”

His eyes softened slightly; he obviously hadn’t thought through the scenario.

Rose let out a loud, frustrated sigh, not needing a reply. “Thank you for coming, Roman, but I think you should go.”

“Rose, I?—”

“Please leave.”

He paused, looking like he had a great deal more he wanted to say, but she didn’t care to hear it.

His jaw clenched along with his fists. He didn’t say another word as he roughly swung the door open and slammed it behind him.

For what had to be the fourth night in a row, Rose cried herself to sleep, letting the tears pour, hoping they’d drown her and she’d never wake.